Findy's a few minutes earlier than the agreed-upon thirty. As is her wont, or perhaps compulsion, she's whistling a tune-- in this specific instance, the sea shanty "Drunken Sailor"-- as she enters and finds something small to munch on. The frail-looking engineer didn't eat much, and didn't look like she had a lot of space in her belly to fill at any rate. Her sunglasses still firmly in place on her face, she finds a spot to sit and spreads out some papers-- mostly very rough sketches of sailing ships, but also a few pages with various numbers on them. She continues to whistle softly to herself while she arranges the stacks to her liking and waiting for the lieutenant to show up.

Kincaid walks into the mess tent a little after the 30 minutes. "Sorry I'm late, I needed to grab a few things. I'm still trying to get everything together."

Sitting down across from Findy, he sets a notebook that seems to be filled with random notes and ideas jotted down. Flipping to a clean page, he looks up, "ok, since I'm assuming we don't want a sailboat, what kind of a craft are we hoping to do. Depending on what's available for power, and supplies, possibly a hovercraft or jet boat?"

Findy's whistling cuts off abruptly when Kincaid addresses her, "Well, we don't have much in the way of materials for something like a hovercraft. We do have the materials for a sailing vessel, however, so I was inclined that direction. The Major doesn't want us scrapping too many of the escape pods, so mostly what we have to work with is trees. Although we could probably salvage tent canvas for sails. I'm not sure where we'd get the materials to build motors and engines without tearing up escape pods, and then there's the problem of fuel-- although I suppose we could lay in a supply of wood, but it's not as efficient as, say, coal-- assuming we knew of any nearby coal deposits, which we don't."

"Thinking of building a steam locomotive, MacLean?" Eileen's voice carries both amusment and the telltale signs of being very cold, indeed, as she enters the mess tent. "I certainly wouldn't put it past your abilities, that's for sure. May I ask what the subject of discussion is?"

And she quickly heads for the coffeepot.

You can just say "Findy explains what she was talking about" if you want, of course.

"Hmm, ok. That will make it a little more difficult. There are a lot of things that can go wrong with a sailing voyage. Quite frankly I think that building the ship will be the easy part. About how far away is this sea from here?"

Kincaid glances over at the major before returning his attention to the notes he's making.

Engrossed in her plans, Findy misses the tone of the major's remark and starts her reply with, "No. There's no point. It'd be more work laying rails than it'd be worth, and that's overlooking the fact that we don't have the steel, to make the rails with nor do we know of a handy deposit of iron ore to smelt into steel," she pauses suddenly, "oh, uh, that is, we're looking at boat designs. With an ocean between us and the gate, it seems like a good idea-- unless you'd really rather swim. And I don't know how far it is, lieutenant, nor how wide," she adds, directing her be-sunglassed face towards Kincaid briefly. "Perhaps the major knows. And while we're at it, major, it'd be useful to know how many people you're planning on sending on this bit of a lark, and if any of them are capable of pulling an oar."

That was being physically cold, not a cold tone of voice, just to be clear

coldness feeling slightly warmer now. "Could always build a steam tractor. But no, I certainly don't have any intention of swimming. Although a nice beach would be nice about now."

She pauses, momentarily remembering some of Sweden's more (in)famous beaches she'd visited in her youth, then shakes it off and continues. "I'd say as many as possible will be sent - I'm not keen on splitting the party, as it were, and the sooner we get somewhere warmer, the better. Although I suppose Doctor Horrible can stay with a few of his merry band to keep inspecting Icehenge out there. As for oars...well, I suppose I'll have to ask around for that."

Panting, Bethany throw open the tent flap and runs into the mess tent. She takes note of Major Thorsson. "Major! I've found - " She catches herself, takes a deep breath. "never mind, it can wait, but what's going on? Who are we shooting at?"